red Jim. "Don't let the lady of the house wear off all
her curls over the accounts, will you, Dad? I'd hate to see her
bald!"

"I'll keep an eye on her," said his father. "Now, boys; it's time you
were off."

They shook hands with Allenby, to his secret gratification. He closed
the carriage door upon them, and stood back at attention, as they
drove off. From an upper window--unseen, unfortunately--a figure in a
red overall leaned, waving a handkerchief.

The train was late, and they all stamped about the platform--it was a
frosty morning.

"Buck up, old kiddie," said Jim. "We'll be home in no time. And look
after Dad."

"Yes--rather!" said Norah. "Send me all your socks when they want
darning--which is every week."

"Right." They looked at each other with the blank feeling of having
nothing to say that comes on station platforms or on the decks of
ships before the final bell rings. Then the train came in sight, the
elderly porter, expectant of a tip, bustled mightily with suit-cases
and kit-bags, and presently they were gone. The two brown faces hung
out of the carriage-window until the train disappeared round a curve.

Norah and her father looked at each other.

"Well, my girl," said he. "Now I suppose we had better begin our
job."

They went out to the carriage. Just as they were getting in, the
ancient porter hurried after them.

"There's some people come by that train for you, sir."

The Lintons turned. A thin man, with sad Irish eyes, was limping out
of the station. Behind him came two girls.

"Why, it's Con!" Norah cried.

"It is, miss," said the chauffeur. "And the gerrls I have with
me--Bridie and Katty."

"But you didn't write," Mr. Linton said.

"Well, indeed, I was that rushed, an' we gettin' off," said Con. "But
I give Patsy Burke the money and towld him to send the wire. But 'tis
the way with Patsy he'll likely think it'll do in a day or two as well
as any time." And as a matter of fact, the telegram duly arrived
three days later--by which time the new arrivals had shaken down, and
there seemed some prospect of domestic peace in the Home for Tired
People.

CHAPTER VI

KIDNAPPING

Mrs. Hunt came slowly down the steps of a Park Lane mansion, now used
as an officers' hospital. She was tired and dispirited; her steps
dragged as she made her way towards Piccadilly. Beneath her veil her
pretty face showed white, with lines of anxiety deepening it.

An offic